


WE SNEAKED INTO AN OSCAR PARTY WITHOUT BEING FOUND!!!

by LunaChi_KuroShihone



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: DANCER!YUURI, Fashion Designer!Viktor, Gay Victor Nikiforov, Humor, Katsuki Yuuri is So Done, M/M, Parody, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Pre-Relationship, Smitten Victor Nikiforov, Sneaking Around, Vlogger!Phichit, YouTube, Youtuber AU, of a youtube video, very very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaChi_KuroShihone/pseuds/LunaChi_KuroShihone
Summary: Yuuri was pretty certain that they'd end up detained today, and would have to call Leo or Cao Bin to bail them out. Phichit flipped the camera around, excitedly staring at Yuuri. "...right?"Yuuri blinked, nonplussed. "Obviously, whatever Phichit-kun said is a big, fat, lie."Phichit pouted, pausing the recording. "Yuuuuri, we agreed to do this! It'll be fun!"No, they hadn't, actually. Phichit had dragged the dancer out of his bedroom that morning and had somehow gotten his hand on a pair of nice suits. Yuuri didn't do suits.They were in the middle of the celebrity hotspot, California, ready to crash some party. A celebrity party. Yuuri and Phichit, two very normal and non-celebrity guys who were new in the region.This couldn't end well.





	WE SNEAKED INTO AN OSCAR PARTY WITHOUT BEING FOUND!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This happened 100% because of [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfpzNw231mQ&list=PLexkHoTXo4UpSgWJBeWTzmIxoDwF3XnOh&index=1)  
> video of Yes Theory that I found and then proceeded to binge-watch the whole channel

Yuuri sighed in desperation as he massaged his temples, glancing at Phichit with squinted eyes. His Thai roommate was babbling excitedly into the camera, ready to inform the whole world of their newest 'adventure'. They were in the car and everything.

 

Yuuri was pretty certain that they'd end up detained today, and would have to call Leo or Cao Bin to bail them out. Phichit flipped the camera around, staring at Yuuri in excitement. "...right?"

 

Yuuri blinked, nonplussed. "Obviously, whatever Phichit-kun said is a big, fat, lie."

 

Phichit pouted, pausing the recording. " _Yuuuuri_ , we agreed to do this! It'll be fun!"

 

No, they hadn't, actually. Phichit had dragged the dancer out of his bedroom that morning and had somehow gotten his hand on a pair of nice suits. Yuuri didn't do suits.

 

They were in the middle of the celebrity hotspot, California, ready to crash some party. A _celebrity party._ Yuuri and Phichit, two very normal and non-celebrity guys who were new in the region. Phichit had wanted to check the neighborhood out and had dragged Yuuri and his phone and camera along.

 

(Yuuri may or may not feel like a hostage, if it weren't for the fact that Phichit's YouTube channel was fairly well off, and his own involvement was mandatory ever since the dance collab they did two years ago. Yuuri was a mainstay, apparently.)

 

"Crashing some movie star and-slash-or billionaires Oscars party is not fun, Phi. It's fucking terrifying."

 

Phichit blinked innocently at him. "But Yuuri, we have brought food with us."

 

They had, on Yuuri's insistence. There were two bottles of some cheap champagne, a bottle of sake and some unholy drink from Thailand Yuuri never could stomach. Yuuri also threw some Japanese KitKat into the mix, and Phichit sacrificed two packs of his homemade candy. All in all (and if they would be still in Detroit and not newly-moved to Cali) they'd attract quite a crowd with their stuff, but Yuuri was skeptical.

 

"It'll be entirely your fault, Chulanont, if we end up in prison."

 

Phichit simply grinned. "Gotcha!"

 

* * *

 

Their first stop at one of the great gated _mansions_ around the area had yielded no positive results, as the owner had been too sick (and too much of an elderly lady, Yuuri had _standards_ to Phichit's madness, thank you) to throw one. The second one wasn't much better, the owner not doing a viewing party and-slash-or afterparty. She'd said they'd looked handsome, though.

 

"Well, yeah," Phichit had mouthed, while adjusting his perfect eyeliner in the front seat mirror. "Finally someone recognizes my genius!"

 

Yuuri had rolled his eyes and kept on driving, missing his glasses with fervor.

 

"I still don't get why me and not Ketty, Phi. She's much better at all of this." All of 'this' meaning socializing in general, but in this specific case, playing along to the lie and not freaking out that they'd be found. Yuuri had delicate nerves, okay? Ketty Abelashvili was part of their team, sometimes joined by Yuuri's former ballet teacher and Phichit's former skating coach whenever they were in the region, and Vicchan when they were visiting and filming in Japan.

 

Yuuri missed Vicchan.

 

Phichit was looking at him, decidedly unimpressed, almost annoyed. "Yuuri Katsuki, you brushed shoulders with celebrities when you were younger."

 

"You know that Minako-sensei doesn't count, she's family!"

 

"She may not count, but all those parties she dragged you to, with famous dancers and whatnot, sure does. You met the former prima of the Bolshoi, Yuuri! That's a big achievement, you know?"

 

Yuuri didn't. Phichit continued. "And you have this air around you, like, like--" He waved his hand around in approximation of the _like_ , and Yuuri gave up as they pulled into a parking space. "Like I know business?"

 

"Yes!" Phichit grinned, already out of the car.

 

_Gee,_ Yuuri thought. _I wonder why? Maybe because my family comes from business?_ It took some savvy to be the last running onsen in town, after all.

 

Then he did a double take to where Phichit was going and blanched. "Phichit, no! There are security guards at that gate!"

 

He only heard the faint _Phichit, yes!_ before the Thai was already talking to the guard, who seemed to humor this poor, non-American person who ran up to him with champagne in his hands.

 

* * *

 

"I told you so."

 

"I don't want to hear it."

 

"Alright, but I told you." Yuuri glanced at Phichit with a grin, thoroughly enjoying his small victory. "The guard lied to you."

 

Phichit's eyebrow twitched, but he refused from commenting anything further, camera recording everything for their viewers. He was glancing outside, doing his best to ignore Yuuri, before his form stiffened.

 

"There were people, Yuuri!"

 

_Oh no._ "...one of them looked like a police officer, Phi. I don't think--"

 

"We are going there, obviously."

 

"...obviously." The Japanese man sighed. "Hold on, I got to find a parking space."

 

Yuuri glanced to the people as well and slowed down, and one of the officers walked up to them. Silently fearing for their life and not wanting to end up at a precinct again, Yuuri rolled down the window. "Are you guys going to the party?" The officer asked.

 

Phichit's face morphed into a truly terrifying grin. "Yes!"

 

The officer nodded. "Thought so. Follow down the street to find a parking lot, and then I'll show you how to get there from here; everything's packed full already."

 

They nodded at him and drove off, the grin never leaving Phichit's face. "Told you so."

 

* * *

 

One tense shuttle ride later they were standing in front of a typical celebrity mansion, eyeing the last line between them and the party. "Of course there's another security guard," Phichit muttered, trying to appear nonchalant.

 

Yuuri was silently freaking out, just a tiny little bit.

"What now," he hissed.

 

What now turned out to be two girls who were also going into the party, eyeing them up and down appreciatively. "You two seem a bit lost," they'd said.

 

Yuuri nodded. Yes. He was very lost and very confused. He wanted to go home and become a blanket-burrito. "First time at Giacometti's?"

 

Phichit nodded, grinning. "Yep. Bit overwhelmed. Everything else we've been to was smaller, with less security. Close knit."

 

Yuuri would strangle Phichit, sometime soon. The ladies cooed at them and each took one at the elbow, Yuuri falling rigidly into the proper pose from years of being Minako's plus-one at her parties and galas. "You have a strong grip," his self-appointed arm-candy said. Yuuri would die.

 

They entered without much fuzz, and once the ladies excused themselves into the crowd, Phichit turned the camera around and hugged Yuuri excitedly. "We're inside! Let's have fun, Yuuri!"

 

Someone started a toast: "Say Oscars!"

 

Everyone followed.

 

Yuuri swallowed heavily, eyeing the champagne. Well, here goes nothing.

 

* * *

 

Phichit turned into the life of the party with startling ease and Yuuri simply tagged along, making sure to limit the Thai's alcohol intake as much as possible while still being part of the antics. They posed in front of anything that caught their fancy, and by the time the party really geared up even Yuuri had to admit that he was enjoying himself, having camped out next to the cotton candy while Phichit took selfies with the two ladies from earlier. He was still baffled that it had worked. The cotton candy man glanced at him as Yuuri ate another cone, steadfastly ignoring the looks he got.

 

He was hungry.

 

* * *

 

They'd met Viktor Nikiforov, fashion designer and part-time model, in a tent where they were looking at the displayed designs of said fashion designer and part-time model. The man had approached them with a charming smile and gorgeous, god-gifted body, and Yuuri was instantly _gone._

 

He'd noticed their filming and lunatic grinning, and so Yuuri confessed that they weren't. That they weren't invited.

 

Viktor found it: " _Amazing_! You managed to get inside to Chris's party like that!"

 

He and Phichit hit it right off, much to Yuuri's chagrin. They posed for the camera and grinned, Viktor showing them one of the _#designs_ up close, and Yuuri was confronted with an unfairly beautiful sketch of something right out of a Disney film, prince-charming waistcoat and all. Viktor called it his pride and joy.

 

"It's the rough sketch of my _Stammi Vicino_ line. Practical but still good-looking and stretchy, inspired by the kinds of fabrics professional dancers and figure skaters wear." Viktor had eyed him appreciatively at that, and Yuuri shivered. He'd _love_ to dance in one of those designs. Viktor slung an arm around Yuuri's shoulder as soon as Phichit's attention was shifted to feature the other artworks in the small tent, and he whispered into Yuuri's ear -- "I wanted to be a figure skater when I was little, you know? But one bad fall when I was sixteen later and here I am, fashioning clothes for skaters instead."

 

The way Viktor said it, low timbre and fake-casualness belied the hurt Yuuri saw flash across his face at the silent confession, but Phichit had the phone angled back in selfie mode already, and it was broken.

 

"You know," Viktor said, one selfie-session later, when Phichit was back to filming, "I could use some food. Do you want some food? There's a tent with free food for guests."

 

There was a tent with free food for the guest, that much was true, but the portions were so laughably small that Yuuri felt all weepy inside. They had met the guy whose party they crashed -- Christophe Giacometti, actor and model for Calvin Klein or Vouge or Gucci or something similarly fancy, and he'd grinned at their confession and toasted them, patting Viktor on the back and disappearing into the masses to some guy called Massimo(?)

 

"His beau," Viktor said, while cutting his sad excuse of a filet in an appropriate bite-sized piece. Phichit had nodded along while Yuuri simply eyed his own plate with distaste. This was why he hated parties, and why he stopped attending them with Minako.

 

They had finished eating in roughly two hours, fancy food looking better than it tasted, and Yuuri was running on food-deprivation, which meant that his filter was off the racket and missing the same way that he was as straight as wet noodles, so he'd proposed. Kind of. Sorta, to Viktor, that the gorgeous and hot Russian fashion designer and part-time model could simply come with them for some _real_ food.

 

Phichit lapped it all up, his phone permanently glued to his hands and running on his sixth or so power bank.

 

Viktor's face lit up and he smiled unbelievably, adorably, heart-shapedly, and Yuuri was _so incredibly gone._

 

"We also have cheap champagne and Japanese KitKats." Phichit, that traitor, added.

 

"The funny flavored kind?" Viktor asked, which, why did he look so cute?? Yuuri was having a crisis???

 

Phichit nodded, and Viktor lit up. "Yes! I only have to-- my poodle, Makka, is inside the house in my room, can I get her?"

 

Bless him, Yuuri thought. He has a poodle. Kill me now. Phichit nodded and they exited the food tent and bee-lined for the house (a mansion, in Yuuri's honest opinion, but who seemed to care?) where Viktor snuck them in through a patio door. "I don't want to offend Chris," he'd said, "but I'd much rather tag along with you two than spend another minute listening to _Michele Crispino_ talk."

 

Viktor seemed to assume that they knew who _Michele Crispino_ was. The did not. Yuuri choose not to mention that, instead continuing his misadventure into the mansion in search of their dog-shaped treasure.

 

"You know," Phichit said, eyeing the dark room and his phone warily. He was still recording. "We could make this into a thing. An exploring thing."

 

"Phichit, no." Yuuri said, already dreading where this was going. Viktor had proceeded to use the flashlight app on his phone to walk up the stairs to the second floor, waiting for them at the top and listening in shamelessly to their conversation.

 

"Phichit yes," Phichit grinned, nodding to the hot Russian. "An abandoned and lost places exploring gig. The fans will eat it up, Yuuri!"

 

Yuuri was about to protest again, but Viktor beat him to it. "Count me in."

 

Yuuri was outnumbered. And tired. They finally found the room Viktor was staying in (after two tries, because big ass mansion) and the poodle bowled over her owner, Yuuri and Phichit in that succession. And then she returned to Yuuri's side and _boofed_ , and Yuuri felt the need to do something stupid and crazy and idiotic, like drunkenly propose to Viktor to _please come and visit my family in Hasetsu, yes? We have hot springs and a sad economy._ Even though Yuuri wasn't, in fact, in Hasetsu. Or the type of person that invited strangers to his home.

 

(He kept quiet while Viktor packed up some of his stuff into a bag, and then they made their way to the back door and were out of the party. Phichit switched to a new power bank.)

 

"So!" The Thai said, once they found their way to the empty bus station. "Who is up to walking thirty minutes to our car, and then search for the next McDonalds?"

 

Viktor's eyes lit up as if it was Christmas Day and Easter all at once. Yuuri's may have done as well. "If by McDonalds you mean breaking my diet with the most greasy food available then yes, I am very much up for it."

 

Phichit grinned. "Then let's go, Mr. Party Boy."

 


End file.
